


This is a torch song

by Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe



Series: Sing, O Goddess [3]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Casual Sex, F/F, Female Friendship, Femslash February, Femslash February 2020, Male-Female Friendship, Maybe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22655500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe/pseuds/Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe
Summary: Helen met the girl with the lace of freckles on her first day at Troy.  She walked into Reading Consent in the Iliad with upswept silver hair, a leopard tattoo running on her neck, and breasts swaying as she moved.  She knew they would be friends instantly. The same way she knew she was going to move through Theseus in a few months.
Relationships: Helen of Troy (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)/Chryseis
Series: Sing, O Goddess [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629808
Kudos: 17
Collections: Femslash February





	1. Chapter 1

Helen met the girl with the lace of freckles on her first day at Troy. She walked into Reading Consent in the Iliad with upswept silver hair, a leopard tattoo running on her neck, and breasts swaying as she moved. She knew they would be friends instantly. The same way she knew she was going to move through Theseus in a few months. 

Helen had been called a user, an opportunist textually or in-person for most of her life. Because she acknowledged and owned her beauty and intelligence. Because she knew how to make people do what she wanted and refused to feel guilty about getting what she wanted. She knew how to play the cultural virgin/whore dyad like the turn of a coin. 

The girl with the lace of freckles’ name was Chryseis. She had a soft voice that didn’t carry well. She had brown eyes and her eyebrows didn’t match her hair. She had dimples and had to be coaxed to laugh. She was _perfect_. 

Helen wanted to collect her. She wanted Chryseis as her best friend. She wanted to fill her with secrets and biting commentary and enough vodka to interpret epics in the night sky. She had never had a best friend because most girls hated her on sight. She was either too beautiful or too stuck up or too _something_. She wanted Chryseis to fill that hole in her chest. 

Chryseis, of course, was her own person. 

She barely noticed Helen coming into class, late. Her roommate had lost her virginity in the next bed over the night before the semester even started. Unfortunately, it had taken hours of dumb flirting and four seconds of actual sex. She could tell that she was lying about how good the guy was when he just shoved it in. The cardboard script of _oh yeah_ and _it's so big_ that hit every note. 

Chryseis called home on the android her Dad had given her. She did not mention her sleepless night. 

She hadn’t picked her ID card up yet because no one told her where security was and couldn’t get any coffee. Her breakfast was a larabar from the pack in her room and _still_ her stomach poured over the waist of her jeans. She was 87% certain she was going to start her period during class. So she barely noticed Helen.

Helen rolled straight from TKE the following Wednesday and made sure to take the desk right next to Chryseis. She opened with “hey,” and Chryseis volleyed and Helen smiled at her like she did with boys. Chryseis returned it with the faintest flicker of her mouth. She was wearing chapstick that smelled like cucumbers and her right eyetooth was crooked. She was _perfect_. 

Helen forgot to introduce herself. Chryseis didn’t even offer.

Chryseis was a little creeped out by Helen, tbh. 

The second person Chryseis met at Troy - outside of her heartbroken roommate - was Hector. He was horrible at maths, Chryseis was horrible at maths, and they laughed about their matching 63s on the first quiz. He called them the Woe Bros and Chryseis liked that. He showed her where the security office was and took her to the good cafeteria at Locris Hall. He introduced her to Sarpedon, who was much better at maths, and he introduced her to Swedish doom metal. 

She stuffed herself in a car with five other guys to see Ghost at a stadium two hours away. She was maybe a little in love with Papa Emeritus, the same way she crushed on Iroh. Because, tea and satan were just literary constructs.

She still called home. But didn’t mention the carload of boys.

Chryseis finally noticed Helen at a Hall mixer that she wasn’t keen on, but hit up for the free Vernors and promised veggie rolls. Unbeknownst to her, Helen had strategically put herself next to the veggie rolls. “You don’t even like vegetables,” Penelope had laughed at her, also only there for food.

“Hey, aren’t you in my class?” Was an opening that Helen could work with. Chryseis’ roots were showing (she was a redhead) and she was wearing an oversized t-shirt with an upside down cross on it. Helen could work with a satanic best friend, though she had to wikipedia in the toilets. 

“Um...English, right?” She held her breath, because this was suddenly so important. 

“Yeah. The commentarial consensual non-consent one.” Chryseis paused, frowning. “I’m not sure I know what I just said. It sounded better in my head.”

“Yeah. I get that.”

“So, I guess you live here?” Chryseis looked away and thus missed the almost covetous look on Helen’s face. 

“Yeah. In 302.” Helen drew it out as long as she dared. “You should drop by sometime. So we can study together.” She didn’t yet know that Chryseis would never “drop by” without a specific invite. She didn’t get implicit. She didn’t like being an imposition. She always thought she was an imposition, even after three years of college and Helen would work at her.

  
  


It was at a sorority thing that Chryseis had absolutely no intention of joining, that Helen said, “This is awful. Do you want to come back to mine for vegan pizza?” Helen hated vegan pizza, but Chryseis still didn’t know that.

Since they only had cold iceberg lettuce as veg and Chryseis _had_ come with Helen, she said, “Yes, please.” It was February and cold and Helen was in a violent pink peacoat that somehow suited her. Chryseis was no better in an oversized leopard print jacket she’d found at the thrift store over break. Her father called her Lola Brigida, but she didn’t mind. She liked having inside jokes with her Dad.

Helen painted her nails dark blue with dots and Chryseis tried to stay in the lines with a reciprocal peach. They were sitting on the floor, against Helen’s bed that smelled like baby powder, when Chryseis kissed Helen. It felt like the right thing to do and Helen did this thing where she licked into her mouth that made her wet. “You have a boyfriend,” Chryseis said, though it sounded nonsensical. She didn’t want to date Helen, just kiss her.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Helen asked, genuinely confused. She had never had a best friend and it felt like they should be making out. Because who else would learn her tongue and body and get her off? It was a girl sex thing. A best friend thing. It didn’t have anything to do with boyfriends. 

Chryseis was pleased to be on the same wavelength, though neither of them knew what they were doing. So they did what they liked. Chryseis started easy on Helen’s clit. She pressed harder when Helen ground into her hand. “I like it rougher,” she said. Chryseis could do rougher. There was power in making Helen tremble and more when Helen came like a tidal wave on her fingers. It smelt light and sweet. Chryseis would later learn that Helen ate pineapples until her mouth burned for that very purpose.

Helen pushed the elastic of Chryseis’ panties aside and licked her. Light like Chryseis had shown her. Helen didn’t know how to touch, because fingering didn’t do anything for her. But she knew what she liked when boys went down on her. Helen fellated her clit and Chryseis wanted to close her thick thighs against it, but Helen wouldn’t let her. She licked and sucked until Chryseis was pulsing, a soft wave like a calm ocean. Helen kissed the hair at her pubic bone, the red line her jeans made on her abdomen, and then smiled. 

“That was nice.” Chryseis said, not knowing what else to say. Because it was nice and she really wanted an almond joy from the vending machine on the first floor. She thought she might be high.

“Right?” Helen agreed, a little languid and a little off guard. She had the quarters for the almond joy in her coat pocket from laundry earlier. 

Helen was in love, but didn’t know how to say it. Having a best friend was wonderful.

Giving access to her body had always terrified Chryseis. But being touched by Helen wasn’t as scary as she’d thought. It was the nicest, though she didn’t know that yet.

Later, she called her Dad, who always looked forward to her calls. “I made a new friend,” she told him. “She’s great.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A relationship revisit.

There was a seven hour time difference between Helen and Cris.

Which was why Cris was the only person in the world who had seen Helen in sweats and a string-strap tank top. Boy shorts and matching underwear were reserved for the occasional boyfriend (Helen didn’t do casual). A floral robe for housemates if they caught her running to the bathroom. 

This did not happen much as it took Helen a while to put on Helen. 

“Hey,” Helen was quiet though she had the house to herself. Pat (presumably) being dicked down at the TKE house, Pen doing her thing at the arts building, and Bri likely to fall asleep at the library with midterms approaching. 

“Hey.” The cam on her laptop angled wrong, she was a black shape with the Mediteranean behind her. The leopard on her neck rippled as she moved.

“I can’t see you,” Helen whined, “You need to move the camera so the light’s not behind you.”

“Just a sec.” The screen jostled as she moved from her bed, where she cammed from when Helen called at night, to the floor. Cris’ room was spartan: white walls, a bed and dresser, and a poster of Giannis Antetokounmpo behind her because she was staying in her host’s son’s room. “Is that better?”

“Much.” Helen could see her matte blue hair tucked behind an ear, the tiny stud of her nose piercing. They’d gone to the shop together. Cris for the nose, Helen for her navel. Because it was unobtrusive but sexy. “How have you been?”

“Pretty good, yeah. Practicing my Greek, working on a paper, the usual.”

“Tell me about the Vespa guy.”

Cris rolled her eyes. “I mean. He wanted to get coffee, but  _ not _ coffee? But you know,” she shrugged. Helen did know. Cris had a short-list of who could touch her. She was also on the aro spectrum. Helen loved her desperately and had plans to spend the latter part of their lives in a retirement community. After she’d divorced her trophy husband and retired from politics. 

She had a plan.

“So tell me about this Pat guy.” The subject of Patroclus was highly amusing to her. He used a douche to wash his hair. He tried to hide something from Pen. He was brave enough to be in a car that Bri was driving (10/10 would not recommend). He was becoming a legend. “I mean, he’s blown up my texts and even Sarpedon is talking about him. Are you on this guy?”

Helen snorted. “No. Achilles snatched him up right away and they’re in some sex ring with Antilochus? I don’t know. I mean, he probably doesn’t know he’s in some sex ring with Antilochus. He’s really sweet like that. But… he’s no you.”

Cris laughed. “Of course not. No one should be in a sex ring with Antilochus. They’ll get an STD.”

Helen snorted again. “Please come back.”

“Well, my scholarship only covers the semester, so…” Cris was super tight with her dad and would never leave him for so long. As it was, she’d only gone when Helen had sworn to visit him every other weekend, switching off with Sarpedon. Who Helen only grudgingly accepted as her other BFF. Chryses got along pretty well with the MS and joked that he was henpecked by his daughter. But a good henpecked.

“Tell me that you miss me.”

“Your constant need for reassurance is troubling and… I would miss you if you didn’t text me every minute of every day.” Helen fake pouted, her right palm pressed against her left breast. Wednesday night chats had evolved into sex and she had been tight with anticipation all week. 

“Cris…”

“Are you already touching yourself?” 

Was that even a question. “Yes?” Helen bought a good webcam just for this. She angled it down, pulling at her left nippled through the tank top. “You make me so wet.” Cris rolled her eyes, but the screen went blurry as she pulled off her t-shirt. Helen loved the heft of Cris’ breasts. She liked to roll them in her palms, suckle at the nipples, and sometimes bite the underside if she was a little drunk, a little honest. 

Okay, so Helen may have spent time practicing how to put herself in the best possible light to masturbate with Cris. Hiding her small breasts and trying to avoid her “bad side.” Cris was completely artless. She had no bad sides. Helen had tongued the folds of her stomach, skated nails over the uneven expanse of her thighs, and once rubbed her face into the hair at her armpits. Cris had laughed and told her she was gross. Helen had been so wet, her thighs were slick with it.

Cris bent to the side to grab the shoebox from her dresser, the one with a thousand party size lube packs (to get through customs), and pulled out the vibrator. The one Helen gave her two Christmases ago that sucked the clit like a tongue. Or so she hoped. Cris had had dozens of orgasms with it while watching Netflix, Helen tapped out after a hard fuck with the strap-on. 

She came just thinking about it.

“You are so impatient,” Cris laughed, lubing her slit, vibrator still on her thigh. “I should tie up your hands.”

“Yes.” 

Cris dropped down on her back, spreading her legs for the webcam. Lube glistened off the red curls that fringed her sex. Helen slid the sweats off.

“Can you open yourself with your fingers? I want to  _ seeee _ …”

Cris did, pulling her labia open so Helen could see the nub of her clit, the opening Helen would have fucked with her fingers. She had foregone long fingernails just for that. “Will you play with it a little, before you use the vibrator?”

Cris brought her forefinger, broken nails and all, into view. She dug into her clit, the way she liked it, heavy breasts flattening on her torso.

Helen followed suit, heedless of whether Cris saw her or not. She kept her eyes glued to the other woman’s body while beginning to seat the small phallic vibrator she used to reach and stimulate her g-spot. Helen loved dick. The initial press, the girth, the slide. 

Cris worked the vibrator hard, wet sucking sounds coming from the purple silicon. She was so chill about it. Helen got worked up, splotchy and puffing, while Cris rolled with it. The motorized whirl of the vibrator and then a quiet,  _ oh _ . But she would work through it. Pushing for two, three, four orgasms swapping clit and urethra until she was red and swollen. 

Helen followed as best she could. Going up on her feet to grind down on the silicon dick, one hand supporting her on the bed frame, the other plucking at her nipples. She couldn’t go as long as Cris and sated, watched her come. 

They paused to pee -  _ boo _ UTIs - and wash up. “I have to get my stuff together for class,” Cris said, already reaching for her clothes. “I’m going to be so chafed--”

“Don’t then.” Cris arched a brow. “Don’t wear underwear.”

“Jeans and no underwear… do not make it better.” Cris called her a masochist for deferring her comfort for fashion. That was… probably true.

“Then wear a skirt. The green wraparound with the lace thing underneath. Isn’t it open at the crotch?”

Cris tilted her head. “Yeah… I could do that.” The camera caught her feet as she went to the dresser and pulled something out. “I gotta go, though. The bus comes like once a day.”

“I’ll text you.”

“Of course you will,” but Cris was smiling. “Don’t expect an instant response. It’s hard to find wifi and typing on those tiny letters…”

“I love you, be safe.”

“As always. See you soon.”

Helen didn’t stop looking until Cris’ screen went completely black. 


End file.
